“Miss Rendoski,” Principal Davis said, putting a good deal more sternness into his tone now, “do as I said. Take off your clothes and bend over the desk. Do I need to call Mr. Myers and ask him to bring the paddle? Between the two of us, we’ll hold you down if we have to and give you what you’ve got coming.”
Jake glanced at the face of the hapless ‘boyfriend,’ Michael Barrera. He had started to shake his head, as if to beg Jeannie not to make the situation worse. He had his own arousal number on his video feed: 9, with a hardness percentage of ninety-five percent. The thought of watching Jeannie get paddled aroused him as much as it distressed him—and of course the arousal added to the distress.
“You can’t do that,” Jeannie said, obviously trying very hard to sound scornful. Jake felt certain that Davis could hear, just as clearly as Jake himself did, the uncertain wavering in her tone. She had very good reason for her diffidence: Principals and their security officers had a great deal of leeway in dealing with the discipline of eighteen-year-old students.
“Oh, I most certainly can,” Davis said. “I found you having sexual intercourse in a classroom. That gives me the authority to punish you in the nude, as you deserve for your shameful behavior.”
Jeannie’s hands fumbled at her shirt, managing to do up a button. She clearly meant to try to brave it out, in hope of making it impossible for the principal to carry out the worst part of his threat.
“That’s ridiculous,” she said, doing an admirable impression of a busy adult who just wanted to get to her next appointment. “I’m sorry I spoke—”
Principal Davis had the walkie-talkie he carried at his belt up to his mouth. “Mr. Myers, would you please bring the paddle to Room 137?”
Jeannie’s eyes went wide. Jake could see in her expression how close a plea for mercy had come to the surface, but he knew no Beta Plus would ever beg to be spared a punishment before she had received any training. Someday soon, under his Advanced Guidance, she might plead on her knees to suck Jake’s cock instead of feeling the prison cane across her backside. Today, though, Jeannie Rendoski stood at the very beginning of her bad-girl journey, and no such weakness would escape her lips.
Jake watched the resolution form in Jeannie’s eyes, almost replacing her fear. She turned to Mike.
“He’s bullshitting,” she said with an attempt at confidence that impressed Jake despite himself. The girl had spirit. Once he got her to AGF she would require quite a bit of personal attention. “He wants me to beg and plead and apologize and shit.”
Mike had, by contrast, very little to recommend him as a suitable boyfriend or as anything else. His eyes widened in alarm, then shot over to Davis. Jake felt a tiny bit sorry for the kid; Mike couldn’t avoid his arousal. He would undoubtedly remember forever the moment he saw his girlfriend paddled in the nude for letting him fuck her—as he would inevitably think of it, even though Jeannie’s own raging needs had just as much to do with their illicit sex as his hard young cock. When he had gotten up that morning, Mike Barrera hadn’t expected to have his fledgling masculine dominance awakened this way.
He looked back at Jeannie. “I don’t think so?” he said quietly.
“You’re wise beyond your years, Mr. Barrera,” the principal said.
The door opened, and the burly Ernie Myers, EF 39’s security officer, walked in carrying the old-school wooden paddle with its three holes to permit a harder impact against the miscreant’s backside. Originally intended to be used over a girl’s skirt, it needed expert handling to prevent injury when applied on a bare young bottom like Jeannie Rendoski’s. Thankfully, Randall Davis had the requisite skill, having mastered it over a long career of delivering traditional discipline to youthful offenders. In the Selecta system, an aspiring educator like Davis began with long hours of observation and mentorship in facilities for more hardened offenders. Selecta, in accord with the corporation’s shadowy origin in the Institute, had made a science of giving both dominants and submissives what they needed—especially on Jeannie’s side of the equation, where a girl who fucked in an empty classroom had for example no idea how badly she needed a stern paddling.
“Thank you, Mr. Myers,” Davis said, accepting the paddle from the stern-faced, red-haired man’s hand. “Please help Miss Rendoski remove her clothing. She’s going to be punished in the nude.”
Myers’ eyebrows went up, and he turned to Jeannie. In the close-up Jake watched her lose all hope that Principal Davis had spoken less than the truth about what he had the power to do, when a girl he had found with her panties down and a hard penis inside her pussy decided to mouth off. Her arousal jumped to 9, her heartrate speeding up to one hundred twenty beats per minute.
“You got your little cherry popped, did you?” asked Myers crudely. “You’d better go ahead and take everything off, Jeannie. It’s nothing you haven’t shown to Mr. Barrera here, right? Shown and much more? You don’t want me to have to come over there and really help you.”
Another flash of alarm, with a slight hint of submission, passed across Jeannie’s face. She looked over at Mike, who stood miserably against the wall.
Myers turned to Davis. “They were doing it on the teacher’s desk?”
Davis nodded. “So that’s where I’ll paddle her, of course. Three swats for spreading her knees and three for her foul mouth.”
Mike spoke up. “That’s… you can’t!”
The security officer looked at the kid with amusement. “Do you really think the principal can’t give a girl six in the nude, when she deserves it? You should feel lucky you didn’t mouth off. I’ll be seeing you this evening. Or you can be stupid and say something you shouldn’t, and we can paddle you both right now.”
For a moment Mike looked like he might do it, to make himself feel better, but Jeannie said, “Don’t, Mike.”
Just as Myers, himself a trained Selecta educator, had intended, the threat to Mike had strengthened Jeannie’s resolve. On her sensor feed her arousal dropped back to 8 and her skin galvanics leveled off as her fear came under her control a little more.
Jake smiled. This girl had spirit to spare.
Jeannie Rendoski wasn’t stupid: she didn’t want to earn any more punishment than she already had coming. But she could see that she had no way of avoiding that, now, and so her blazing eyes did their best to conceal the embarrassment the moment truly held for her. She turned around on her heel to face the other side of the room, making the movement as sharp and quietly rebellious as possible, and started to take off her shirt.
“No, Jeannie,” the principal said. “Turn back. We’re trying to teach you to value your modesty. You’ll take off your clothes so we can see everything.”
For a moment, her hands on the button of the shirt she had managed to refasten after Davis’ entrance, Jeannie froze. Her arousal jumped, and a spike on the graph in the screen’s chyron showed a contraction of her vagina: she had clenched at the idea of showing three men her naked pussy, shaved in accordance with EF cheerleading regulations, to keep her tidy in her uniform.
Then, with her eyes on the corner of the room, burning with resentment and dripping slow tears onto her cheeks, she turned and obeyed. The front of her shirt parted and dropped from her shoulders, showing a delightful view of her small breasts, nicely exposed in the helpless tangling of her white school bra, which Jeannie shrugged off now, crossing her arms reflexively over her chest immediately after.
“Take your arms away, Jeannie,” the principal said. “You’ve lost your right to cover yourself. We’ll have a look at those young breasts.”
Chapter 3
Jeannie’s pussy clenched again.
Goddammit. Why? How?
Since the moment Principal Davis had walked into the classroom, she had started to understand that something about her had changed, at some point, without her knowing it. Or maybe something had lain hidden in the recesses of her mind?
Or my pussy?
Jeannie did not welcome the discovery, which had bec
ome so very acute when she had seen the principal inspect the gusset of her panties. She had thought that she had gotten turned on when Mike had pinched her nipples. That made sense to her, from a Wellness class sort of point of view: erogenous zones, she remembered Mrs. Graves, the Wellness teacher, had called them.
But the reaction between her legs when Mr. Davis had noticed the stain in her white school panties, from the wicked need she had felt all morning for a fuck in a dark classroom… for the first time, she had actually clenched without anything remotely close to touching an erogenous zone.
Now, when the horrible man and his security officer stood looking at her, dressed only in her skirt with her underwear in a ball in the principal’s left hand… and Mike watched from his place standing against the wall, apparently unable to look away from his girlfriend’s shame… and in Mr. Davis’ right hand he had the wooden paddle that made her heart thump like crazy…
How could she clench down there? How could she feel a need greater even than the one with which she had woken up that morning? How could she feel even hotter between her thighs than on her burning cheeks?
Her hands clutched at her little breasts. For a moment she thought herself physically incapable of obeying the principal’s order.
She had decided just a few seconds ago that she would do as the assholes told her, but with an air that assured them—and Jeannie herself—that nothing they could do would have any effect on her. Jeannie had decided to own her bad-girl reputation, as she had before in the case of minor infractions like unfinished homework and hanging out with her friends, the other senior miscreants, in the girls’ room.
And fucking her boyfriend in an empty classroom.
Principal Davis had made it perfectly clear that nothing would stop him from bestowing this paddling on her bare bottom. Any resistance would only make it worse. Everything in Jeannie’s whip-smart mind told her to take her hands off her tits—it wasn’t like there was even that much to see anyway.
She still had, though, very much to her annoyance, a modesty it seemed like she couldn’t push far enough down in her heart for it not to matter. And now, ever since the principal had walked in on her getting the dick she needed and to which as an eighteen-year-old she should feel entitled, her legs spread wide on a teacher’s desk, that modesty had an even more distressing effect.
“Did you hear me?” Mr. Davis asked sharply. “Get those hands away before Mr. Myers does it for you and this paddling gets even worse.”
Jeannie looked at iron-faced Mr. Myers, with the superior smile that said he wouldn’t mind at all if he had to remove her hands from her breasts. She had to bite her lip to keep from whimpering at what occurred down below her tummy at the awful thought.
With all the force of will she could muster, Jeannie pulled her hands away and, dropping her eyes to the linoleum floor, she started to unbutton her skirt.
Get it over with. That seemed the only thought that provided any help at all. If she thought of it as a horrible event that would end, because nothing lasts forever, and wouldn’t even take more than a minute, probably, because sixty divided by six is ten and how could each swat take up more than ten seconds? When she thought of it that way it seemed like the blushing and the other thing, the tingling one in her nipples and between her legs, got less distracting.
“Nice,” said Mr. Myers. “Little but very pretty.”
Jeannie closed her eyes. She tried to pretend she hadn’t heard. Get it over with.
“Definitely,” said Mr. Davis. “Mr. Barrera, I hope you paid attention to those sweet little nipples.”
No. How… how could he? And how could she react that way, down there?
“Answer Principal Davis,” said Mr. Myers sternly. “Did you play with Jeannie’s nipples?”
Jeannie couldn’t help it: her eyes flew open and she raised her gaze to see Mike’s frown of confusion. His eyes met hers, then looked away.
“Yes, sir,” he said, his voice sounding strange and thick.
Jeannie had the button on her skirt’s waistband undone.
Then, to her horror, the principal said, “Miss Rendoski, is Mr. Barrera telling the truth? Do you feel like those sweet little breasts got enough attention? You may go ahead and drop your skirt while you consider your answer.”
Jeannie’s mind clung to the may in Mr. Davis’ words. She took refuge in the tiny opening it provided to focus on a micro-defiance in which she could engage. She did not drop her skirt. Instead, she answered the question, doing her very best to speak as if she had fucked a ton of guys and knew all about the various modes of bringing a woman sexual pleasure.
She looked straight at the principal as she said, her voice steady despite the heat in her face, “Yes, sir. Mike is telling the truth. He played with my nipples and it felt good.”
She glanced over at Mike to see that he had a grateful smile on his face. Jeannie did her best to flash one back at him, despite the way her tummy flipped at the thought of what Mr. Davis would do next.
It didn’t take long. The principal replied in a voice laden with scorn, ripping Jeannie’s attention back to the distressingly handsome face that she nonetheless suddenly noticed had in it blazing blue eyes that made her heart quail.
“Just the way a slut likes it. Drop that skirt. Let’s see the little pussy where you gave Mr. Barrera’s penis such a good time.”
Jeannie’s whole body seemed to burst into bonfire heat at the degrading words. For a long moment she felt like she might faint with the thoughts and emotions that seemed to blaze in each separately discernible heartbeat. One nanosecond of that time, it seemed to her, held the possibility that she might actually confront, in her mind, the horrible problem of what the principal had just done, somehow, between her thighs by treating her like a… like a…
Then her mind and her heart reeled back, and she pushed away the idea that it got her too hot to hear herself humiliated. She couldn’t drive away the fact of it, but Jeannie could think about other things, like how much she hated the principal, and the security officer, and Mike—no, she pitied him, because he didn’t know how to own his outlaw status, the way Jeannie did.
Her reason came back to her, and she looked Mr. Davis straight in the eye, and dropped her skirt to the floor so that it fell in a puddle of blue plaid fabric around her feet.
“Oh, she’s a cheerleader!” said Mr. Myers. “She looks really nice that way, with her pussy smooth.”
Jeannie didn’t look at him. She breathed evenly through her nose, and she kept looking at the principal, who kept looking back at her with narrowed eyes and a tiny smile.
“Mr. Barrera,” said Mr. Davis. “What do you think? You probably haven’t seen many vulvas, and I imagine you didn’t even get a good look at Miss Rendoski’s until now, but do you like how she looks with her pussy shaved to keep her tidy down there?”
Jeannie couldn’t help it: she looked at Mike. Despite her flash of anger and then forced pity at him, he still looked like the handsome bad boy Jeannie had considered him until his meek response at the arrival of Principal Davis. Dark, brooding eyes and a sneer at the world on his lips had made her choose him for her first kiss and her first fuck.
Now, to Jeannie’s surprise, the sneer returned. Mike seemed to have begun an unexpected sort of transformation, as the principal and the security officer spoke to him about her. Mike looked less fearful, and more like his bad-boy self. Jeannie felt her forehead crease as she saw the hard look in his eyes—at one and the same time she felt a sob of frustration rise in her throat and a whimper of wanton need escape her lips.
What’s happening to me? she asked herself desperately, but Mike’s words made her turn away from the answer.
“Yeah,” Mike said, in the tone Jeannie thought of as his bad-boy voice. “She’s got a really nice pussy.”
“That’s the spirit,” said Mr. Myers. “Did you pop her cherry today?”
“No—last week,” Mike replied casually. “She was a better lay today, until Prin
cipal Davis walked in.”
Jeannie tried to keep the cry that rose in her throat from emerging, but she couldn’t. A wordless expression of shame and protest, it came out nevertheless, and she found that her hands had disobeyed her brain’s command, too: she had put her right arm across her breasts and covered her pussy with her left hand.
“Put your hands on your head, Jeannie,” the principal ordered coldly. “As I said, you’ve lost the right to hide your body. Hopefully after we’re done with you in here, you’ll value that right more highly. If not, there’s a place called Advanced Guidance that will teach you a good deal more thoroughly. You’ve earned a trip there, by giving it up to Mr. Barrera.”
“What?” Jeannie demanded. “Advanced Guidance? What the fuck is that?” At least this strange news about a place, apparently, for punishing bad girls had given her something else on which to focus.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” replied Mr. Davis. “Get your hands on your head. And turn around so we can see your backside.”
They’re trying to scare me, Jeannie thought to herself, as calmly as she could. And, yes, of course it’s working. But it doesn’t have to make me weak.
She took a deep breath through her nose, and found she could control the fear by dwelling on her contempt for all three of them—even Mike, now that he had apparently decided that according to some toxic, misogynistic policy he would get punished much more lightly, especially if he went along with the principal and the security officer. Slowly, and looking each of the men in the eye in turn, she removed her hands from her privates and raised them to the top of her head. Then, arranging her face carefully into a sneer that she knew looked much more convincing than Mike’s, she turned around to face the teacher’s desk.
“That’s a nice ass, too,” Mr. Myers said. “I know you kids these days have a lot of anal. Did you give it to her that way too, Mike? That butt looks pretty tight. Any guy who gets in there is going to have a good time, even if she doesn’t.”
When Bad Girls Need More Page 2